Son, My Son...

21 Years ago today, my son came into this world after a very long wait, crying and carrying on like any other small, pink human.

He grew. Who knew kids did that?

Today, he transitions from the "Under-aged Drinking" world to "What, I'm legal". Remember those days, gang? You might be asking yourself what this means to me, his father.

Well, I'm banking on him being a beer snob. There is nothing redeeming about drinking shitty beer. One good beer is better than a dozen bad ones. Period.

I'm also banking on him using his damned head. Many of his peers have died at the hands of a drunken driver or because they had gotten into a car with a driver who had been drinking, so I'm hoping really hard that he won't. Ever. Sometimes it happens, but the gods smile on fools and  we escape. Other times, we don't and we end up dead. I'd like to think that I won't have to attend my son's funeral anytime soon.

Sometime a long time ago, we had a discussion and he said something about drinking Scotch because that was a "Man's Drink". I still laugh about that because I am pretty sure he'll make the face. But that's okay, because like life, it takes a while to appreciate Scotch.

I'm hoping that he has the chance to savor the life he's building. Things are different today. This isn't the world I grew up in, and sometimes I forget that. But it is *HIS* life, and I hope that he has a long, fulfilling one, unfettered by the ghosts of parties past.

So, Cheers my son.  I love you, and I'm hoping that you realize your potential one day.

I'll be cheering you on no matter what.I love you, and I'm proud of you.

Here Here!

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